


The choice of Hamish Holmes

by LeaderInRed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Gen, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaderInRed/pseuds/LeaderInRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>16 years ago, when working on a case, Sherlock and John had to protect a baby. When the case ended and the family were all killed, they decided to adopt the baby and he was named Hamish Holmes. He is now troubled with bullies and he is having a hard time at school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hamish Holmes locked the door to his bedroom, or rather slammed it; loudly enough to cause a little ripple in John and Sherlock's afternoon tea. The only thought that went through Hamish's head at that moment wasn't even sentences, word or even a proper thought. It was only sorrow and hopelessness. He tried to focus on the details at the wallpaper so he could hold back the tears. He never cried and this certainly wasn't going to be an exception.

Hamish took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, trying to figure out what he should do. He was way smarter than the bullies, but cleverness wasn't going to get him anywhere as long as the bullies were physically stronger than him. In fact it didn't take much effort to become stronger than Hamish as he would much rather prioritize a good book over a walk in the rain or weight-lifting at a gym. Maybe he should considering selling some of his science-or fantasy books and buy some exercise equipments instead. He shook his head, slightly disappointed at himself for even considering to get rid of his beloved books. It was just out of the question. He took a quick look out the window. It was what most people would call a perfect day, but Hamish didn't get a single chance to just enjoy the day. He sighed and got up from the bed and walked to the door. Right before he pulled the door handle, he came to think about what would meet him.

He didn't know about Sherlock, but John probably wouldn't let him go without a decent explanation of what was going on; and Hamish didn't want to concern him with all this crap. He opened the door handle and walked straight to the stairs and as he thought, John was already there; arms crossed, frowning. Hamish did his best to avoid him and tried to get to the door, but despite all struggling; John simply grabbed his arm and dragged him along to the living room.

"Sit down, we have to talk". His voice was serious. Hamish rolled his eyes. This was probably the last thing he needed right now and it topped the mountain of worries he already had. Sherlock came from the kitchen with yet another cup of tea.

"So Hamish. How long did you think you could hide it from me?" He said with a cold voice. Hamish looked away, but Sherlock pretended like he didn't see it and continued. "Ahh, it's written all over your face. I read you like an open book. But now, please fill in the details, will you, Hamish?" Sherlock put down his cup and his eyes rested on his young adoptive son.


	2. Chapter 2

"There is nothing wrong. Leave me alone, will you?" Hamish said with a voice that came out much weaker than he was expecting it to.

"Hamish," John said quietly, interrupting Sherlock who was planning to do his usual observing to make Hamish tell the truth. "There is something that's bothering you. We just want to help." John's worried look was more than Hamish could handle. He couldn't stand being a bother to his parents.

He turned around and ran down the stairs and out the door of 221b, hoping that he would be left alone for now. As he ran, tears started dripping down his rather pale face and all the sadness he had been holding on to so hard, were all unleashed at once. He nevertheless continued to run and when he finally stopped, he came to the conclusion that if it weren't for the case he had been helping his detective father with last month in the same area, he would probably be lost.

Hamish took a quick look around. It was already starting to get dark outside and the air didn't feel so warm anymore. Why did he run to this place in the first place? It was like his self-consciousness took him there. He sighed quietly and dried the tears with the back of his hand. He tried to keep calm. Something was definitely wrong. He had never lost control over himself like now. He couldn't control his emotions at all and it frightened him. It felt like a loss against who he was.

The area was bothered with a rather high amount of crime and Sherlock had as Hamish had experienced many times before, many enemies and for all he knew, some of them could take advantage of the unpleasant situation to get hold of one of Sherlock's few weaknesses. From early age Hamish was taught self-defense and a plurality of escaping techniques, but at this moment he was so tired and confused that he wouldn't last a second against his father's enemies. He sat down at an old wooden bench nearby and dug his face in his hands; trying to stop the tears that ran down his cheeks. "Okay, I'm probably affected by some drugs." He said loud to himself with a trembling voice hoping he would be able to believe his own words. Yes that must have been it. It was no way someone like him could give in to this kind of emotions. He put his arms around his knees and tried to keep the cold air out.

A single voice suddenly broke the silence and for a slight second Hamish almost stopped breathing.

"I found you at last, Hamish"


	3. Chapter 3

Hamish felt a sudden paralysis-like feeling as if he couldn't move due to the big shock. "Moriarty," he snarled. One look was enough to tell that this wasn't the kind of person you would gladly meet in an alley at night-time, or any place at any time, really. Nevertheless Hamish felt even more confident now than he had done in a very long time.

"You aren't clever enough to take down the famous Sherlock Holmes, so you go after a weak teenager?" he said sarcastically. Moriarty just shook his head, pretending to be offended. "Didn't your father teach you to respect the villains?" He walked slowly towards Hamish. "Ah, you see; I got the place surrounded so don't play hero and get yourself killed. I wouldn't want blood on my suit and besides; I need you alive for now." Thousands of thoughts came to Hamish at once. Should he listen to him?

His first and most obvious guess was that he was going to use him to kill his father. If Sherlock got killed by Moriarty, it would be his fault. Before Hamish even got to think another thought, he felt a sudden dizziness and a massive headache. He tried to focus at Moriarty, but his vision began to fail. His legs were unable to hold up the weight of him and the next thing he noticed was how his head suddenly hit the hard pavement, but surprisingly he didn't feel any pain. Everything felt uncomfortable and unrealistic, almost like a dream. The last thing he heard before blacking out completely, was Moriarty's cold, snarling voice reaching out to him:

**_"If you were half of what your dear father is, you would be able to avoid all of this."_ **

A sudden pain in the head struck him and filled with panic, Hamish reached for his head, but noticed he wasn't able to move a muscle. What had happened earlier was still unclear to him. "Father," He called out, but it ended up as a weak whisper; impossible for anyone but him to hear. He fought against the massive darkness that had its advantage of him and he forced his eyes to open. He still couldn't see clear, but the pain became more and more intense so he was sure that he was getting more and more conscious, or so he hoped; not knowing exactly the many reasons why he shouldn't hope for that just yet and why there was a rather unpleasant and painful reason why he was as drugged as he was.

Little by little, his eyesight slowly returned, but an indescribable pain kept him from being able to move and to think straight. From what he could see, he was in a rather dark and empty room. Hamish struggled with remembering what had happened last night and to his disappointment he could only remember parts of it. "Moriarty," he whispered. It was Moriarty who did this to him. The sound of a door opening broke the unbearable silence. "Ahhh, Hamish. You look horrible if I may say so myself. They really did their job," Moriarty said. Hamish could tell that everything was going according to his plan due to the satisfaction in his voice.

"My father," Hamish said with a slightly hoarse voice. "He won't come looking for me."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Hamish didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he hoped so. He knew how extremely dangerous Moriarty could be, despite how much he had been hiding from his father and they never seemed to get along, seeing him dead would be unbearable to him.

Hamish felt how breathing became more and more painful. Describing the pain was difficult, if not impossible. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. The drugs were probably letting go of him and the numb feeling reached all the way out to the very tips of his fingers.

"What's happening," Hamish asked. He had to force himself to talk due to the throbbing pain in his chest. All forms of movement were no longer just a matter of course and he had to make an effort just to breath.

"You have about two hours left, Holmes", Moriarty said with a voice comparable with ice. He took out a cellphone and walked closer to Hamish.

"Ahh, Sherlock," He said. "You see, I've got something that belongs to you." Moriarty took a quick look at Hamish. "Not that it's very noticeable. He disappointed me."

Hamish could hear how Sherlock's voice was calling out for him through the cellphone. Separating the words from each other was nearly impossible for him, but hearing his voice made him calm down just a little. He wanted to trust his father more than anything, but a part of him told him that he couldn't.

"I hope he tries to save you," Moriarty said with enjoyment in his voice.

"That would mean that the great Sherlock Holmes has a weakness and it would be twice as fun to destroy him. And every single one of his so-called friends."

Hamish couldn't remember the last time he had felt this helpless and weak. It made him angry because he knew he didn't stand a chance against his father's old enemy. He sighed. Sherlock was coming for him after all.


	5. Chapter 5

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock sat down at the couch, folding his hands. Not a single word being said, though his facial expressions easily showed his concern for his young son. His eyes wandered around the small apartment in search of clues that Hamish might had left behind. For all he knew, he might have been threatened long enough to leave behind something, a note, just something out of the ordinary. He had to give up, as he couldn't see anything that looked like a clue or cry for help, but then again he knew how stubborn Hamish could be and how he probably would have wanted to find solutions to his own problems no matter how big and dangerous they were; quite similar to Sherlock himself.

His hands were shaking slightly. He cared more about Hamish than words could express, but still he let this happen to him. He blamed none other than himself for not being able to prevent this from happening.

"Sherlock?"A voice called out. It was John. His voice sounded worried.

"Moriarty called," Sherlock mumbled with a low voice, slightly unsure of how to tell John the news.

John frowned. Confused, as he knew how things usually became ten times more serious as soon as Moriarty were implicated in the crime and why would he call Sherlock? Something was definitely wrong.

"What's happened?" He asked after a few seconds of unpleasant silence that felt significantly longer than it was.

Their eyes met as they exchanged a worried look. No matter how hard it was, he had to know. There was no way out of the situation.

"John, he's got Hamish."

The look in John's eyes that moment could be described as both panic and anger. As Sherlock had guessed, he was more or less in shock.

"I believe we have to clean up in this ourselves", Sherlock said quietly. John didn't even hesitate before following him as he tried to control the sudden anger and panic he felt.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock rushed through the cold streets of London. The rain was pouring down and raindrops were constantly dripping from the locks of Sherlock's black hair, but he didn't even seem to notice it. As always, he could barely notice what was going on in the real world when he went through his thinking process and John had to pull him back more than one time when he walked across the pedestrian crossing without noticing the cars that were millimeters away from hitting him.

The sky was grey and it didn't seem like a change in weather was near, but Sherlock didn't notice. He didn't notice anything. His mind was focusing on how to save Hamish. He guessed that Moriarty had some plan, but exactly what kind of plan could it be? He first thought of bombs, but quickly decided that it was most likely not, due to earlier incidents including Moriarty and bombs. Long story short; in the end, it didn't work out the way he planned.

"Do you have any ideas where to go?" John asked nervously after following Sherlock through something that reminded more of an alley.

"Of course; I tracked the location", Sherlock replied slightly annoyed. Not that it was John's fault by any means. Concern was one of the emotions that Sherlock despised the most. Basically because he didn't know how to deal with it, and parts of him wouldn't accept the fact that he had to give in to these kinds of emotions.

He glanced slightly at John as they walked through the alley-like street.

"Are you all right?" He finally decided to ask. John shook his head, sighing a little.

"My son..." He ran his fingers through his soaked, blonde hair. "Our son has been kidnapped by one of the most dangerous villains there is."

"Most dangerous", Sherlock interrupted as they turned left at a street corner. John just shook his head again, avoiding eye contact.

"I'm not okay with this. It's not okay!" He almost whispered as he looked down at the wet pavement.

"I just don't want to lose him, Sherlock. I just don't want to keep losing everyone I love."

Sherlock didn't really know what to reply, mostly because he felt just the same way, but also because he couldn't be one hundred percent sure about what to expect from Moriarty and therefore he didn't want to give false hope about being able to save Hamish's life to himself as much as to John.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock's phone made a slight beeping sound as he got a message. He slipped his hands down the deep pockets on his woolen coat and pulled up his phone. He squinted at the blurry screen, reading exactly what he didn't want to read: "Time is slipping away, my not-so-dear Mr. Holmes." It seemed clear to him now. Moriarty was trying new techniques to find the best way to psych him out. He knew Sherlock's weak spot and he was enjoying the situation to crush him slow and painfully by killing the ones he loved.

"It's him, isn't it?" John asked with a slightly lifeless voice. "When you're frowning like that"… He took a deep breath, as if he were trying to say something he had been holding in for a long time. "I can see that you're scared. I can see that you are worried and frightened." Sherlock tried to interrupt to deny the statements, but John ignored him because he knew how Sherlock would deny anything as soon as it involved how he was struggling with emotions.

"I'm perfectly fine, John. I am most certainly not possessed by these weaknesses." His voice was again cold as ice and if it weren't for the little trembling, John would probably have tried to believe it. It was like he was fighting a long-lasting battle with himself as well as with Moriarty, and it was most likely Moriarty's intention.

Sherlock knew better than anyone how this was Moriarty experimenting with his emotions for amusement, but even though he knew so well, he also knew that what he had been told could be true. He was evil enough to torture and kill about anyone regardless of age and Sherlock wouldn't even imagine what he might have done to Hamish.

The sun was about gone and the darkness made it harder to see, as there were no streetlights of any kinds, mostly because they walked through alleys and many of those places seemed to have been abandoned for years and would probably stay that way for years to come.

Sherlock could hear john's breath, and how he was shivering due to the cold weather and a slightly cold wind didn't really make up for it. He glanced at him, trying not to look at his eyes. He couldn't stand watching John like this. Actually for the first time, he just wanted the "case" to be over as fast as possible.

"Is there any chance that we might find him alive", John asked. His voice was trembling and the silence that followed was painful to both of them and when Sherlock finally replied, John already knew the answer. They both knew the answer that they had been avoiding for such a long time. They didn't want to hear it nor believe it, but nevertheless it was the most likely truth.


	8. Chapter 8 - Until your heart stops beating

Even though the darkness made it hard to see, Sherlock seemed to know exactly where to go. They had arrived at something that looked like it might be an abandoned factory. With broken windows and a dilapidated roof, it was not exactly tempting to enter, but considering that they would hopefully find Hamish there, they didn't really think more about it.

"Maybe it's a trap", John said nervously as he tried to get a good look at his surroundings, but Sherlock didn't even listen. He just glanced at the old building before he decided to look for a place to enter. Even if it was a trap, he couldn't possibly live with himself knowing that his son was being killed without him doing anything to stop it.

Sherlock walked in through an opening where a half-rotten wooden door hung by one hinge. Inside it was, if possible, much darker and the floors had a muddy surface. They walked very carefully so they wouldn't step on the broken glass that lied scattered across the floor. It was impossible to see just how big it was inside the building, but it seemed to be huge and full of small rooms and everything was on one floor only.

They walked around, checking out every room they passed, but they didn't find a single trace Hamish anywhere. They stopped for a slight second. Sherlock took a deep breath and tried to deduce his surroundings, but due to lack of light he didn't get much info out of it, though he could see faint traces on the floor; probably two or three hours old. It seemed as if they were carrying someone, due to the way they were walking; Probably Hamish. It was three pair of footsteps, probably someone hired by Moriarty to do the hard work. He could see the same two pairs of footsteps walking out not too long ago, perhaps an hour earlier.

Sherlock turned to his faithful companion that followed him at any case no matter how dangerous it might be. "I'll save him, John."

John just nodded without saying a single word, just wishing for the nightmare to end.

A sudden cry of pain broke the silence. Both Sherlock and John stopped. For a moment it felt as if they were paralyzed. They knew the voice too well and it belonged to Hamish.

"Hamish"! John called out while he ran against the room where he believed the voice came from.

"Stop, John", Sherlock tried desperately to get through to him, but it was too late. He set off after him, hoping he would be able to reach him before it was too late.

As they both entered the room, the sight that greeted them was terrifying. Sherlock gasped in horror

Hamish was lying on the cold, muddy floor covered in blood and there were blood stains on parts of the wall as well as the floor. They could clearly see how he was struggling to breathe, but luckily he was still alive.

Before he managed to do anything, Moriarty came in the door. He looked at them as he was very satisfied with what he had done.

"Don't you think they did a good job with him?" He asked with a voice that didn't tremble at all. As if he was used to this kind of work, and both Sherlock and John knew exactly how that couldn't be more correct. Torturing a young boy didn't bother him at all; on the contrary, he found it very entertaining and he wasn't afraid to show it.

John rushed over to Hamish, but half way there, he was forced to stop as Moriarty had pulled out a gun and was now pointing it directly at John's head. He backed off slowly until he again was standing next to Sherlock.

"I must admit he isn't as smart as you", Moriarty said while shaking his head pretending to be disappointed. "But it sure was worth it, watching the two of you like this… So desperate" He walked closer to the two of them, enjoying the moment.

John seemed to be the only one able to talk. He looked at Moriarty with tears in his eyes, trying his best not to cry.

"Why," He whispers with a hoarse voice. "He's just child".

Moriarty rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Do you really think that any of this is about that unintelligent little brat of yours?"

Moriarty suddenly pointed his gun at Sherlock and before John were able to react, a gun shot echoed through the room.

A smirk grew on Moriarty's face as Sherlock fell to the ground, with the bullet deep in his chest.

"I knew I'd get you." Moriarty said with a deep purr in his voice.

"As for your son, I'll be nice. You still have five minutes left."

Before John was able to do anything, Moriarty was gone again, but his eyes were not focusing on anything but his one and only friend. He sat down on his knees, holding his head in his lap; stroking his curly hair as if he didn't quite realize what had just happened. He stared into the wall with a blank look on his face.

He must have been dreaming. That's probably what's going on. This was just a big, bad nightmare. This couldn't possibly be true. He forced himself to look at Sherlock's dead body. He seemed so calm and peaceful and now he would be like that forever.

Suddenly it dawned on him. He realized it. This wasn't some bad dream. This was a real, living nightmare. He bent down to Sherlock's lifeless face and tears started dripped from his face and landed on Sherlock's cheeks. "God, no", he cried, knowing that no one could hear him.

"Dad," A weak voice called out.

John turns around. It was Hamish. He rushed over to the other side of the room and sat down next to his son. He was beaten up and he looked horrible. He had bruises and blood all over his body. John couldn't stand watching him like this.

"I can't see," He whispered.

John took his hand.

"I'm right here. Everything is going to be okay. I'll call an ambulance right away." His voice was weak and frightened.

Hamish took a deep breath.

"No, don't. I'm going to die, dad."

Tears started dripping from John's cheeks again and he shook his head, denying.

"I hope I can see dad again when I'm dead." he began to cough up blood.

"I just want to tell him that I love him… And that I'm sorry."

John stroke the hair of Hamish while telling himself as much as Hamish how everything was going to be okay. He sat like that for a long time; stroking Hamish's soft, curly hair and denying the unbearable fact that he was dead. He couldn't possibly deal with the death of the two people he loved the most in this world. As he took a last farewell, he could only think of how he blamed himself for what had happened.


End file.
